Viva New Vegas
by SpaceAnJL
Summary: A little roadhouse in the middle of nowhere. A gang of angry bikers. And Jayne.
1. A Fistful of Credits

_The idea for some of this actually came from my long-suffering husband. He bought me the Firefly box set, and then realised his mistake. But it wasn't the only box set he gave me, and putting the two next to each other, well, my brain did a horrible thing. Less of a crossover, more of a temporal echo. None of it is mine._

1. A Fistful of Credits

It's the biggest town on the planet. Hell, it's the only town on the planet. Shines like a fallen star in the desert, and like any other oasis seen from afar, up close, it's a mirage. A mean, flashy sinkhole of a place, devoid of morals and driven by excess. There's law of a sort here, but it's a town where you can get anything. Including dead. Life is cheap here. Death is cheaper - all you have to do is to be in the wrong place...

The Kit Kat Klub is halfway down the Strip. Not the newest or the smartest, but popular. The tables are straight, the girls are clean and the drinks aren't watered. Comparatively speaking. Right now, it's a mess. The whole facade has been stitched by gunfire, and not small calibre. The bright neon sign sheds sparks from its shattered tubes, the hologram dancer caught in a spastic jerk more epileptic than inviting. The ion-field windows fizz faintly as the wind whips small flurries of dust against them. The night is so late, that it's becoming early, and there's the rim of gold and rose over the distant mountains, promises a hot day. But in a town that never really sleeps, someone is always working. Sound of an engine in the distance, and the dark bulk takes shape.

This vehicle is designed to stand up to the toughest of terrain, and its dark anonymity simply screams officialdom. It slews to a halt, and the door opens. Dark boot crunches down on the dusty road. The Law has arrived.

Dressed in black, head to toe, the man in charge is stocky, compact. The hair under the flat-brimmed hat is threaded with grey, but the face has the calm intent of a younger man. When he slips off his dark glasses, cold blue eyes assess the scene.

Behind him, his team assemble. First out of the car, unfolding from the driver's seat, a very big black man. Holds himself with that watchful stillness that speaks of imminent violence, curiously pale eyes moving rapidly between the doorway, his boss and the horizon.

Next out, a dark, stocky man in a poncho and stetson. Offers his hand to the next crew member, but his help is disdained. Boss speaks without turning.

"Pancho, you check out the perimeter. Honey, you're with me."

Pancho gives his easy grin, lounges off along the frontage. Casual manner belies the fact that he has the sharpest tracker's eyes in the game.

The woman he called 'Honey', well, there's nothing sweet about her. Dressed in the same black, dark hair pulled back tight, waiting and wired, and obviously just longing for somebody to make a move she can object to. Ducks her head in acknowledgement. First man jerks his chin.

"What you want me to do, G?"

A wintery smile.

"You drew the lucky card, Rik. You and Dodge get to canvas the street, check for witnesses."

Rik rolls his eyes, but makes no other protest.

Dodge is the newest member of the team. Bright and eager, dark eyes jump and roam like his conversation. They are so used to his grin and chatter, that it always comes as a surprise when he goes still, long face intent. They make an incongruous pair as they walk off, the lanky eager kid and the imposing heavily armed man. Brings the edge of a smile to even Honey's lips.

"Reckon he'll make it through the day without Rik sewing his mouth shut?"

"He likes to talk. Rik likes to listen. They make a good team." G shrugs, returns her smile with a quirk of an eyebrow.

"G!" The voice is clear, pleasant and used to being obeyed. The owner of the Kit Kat Klub comes down the stairs to meet them.

Nobody who had ever seen Miss Kitty Fantastico dance forgot it in a hurry. High cheekbones, strawberry blonde, she's fighting middle age with everything she's got, and winning. She turns a dazzling smile, despite her worry, and G's cold eyes soften a fraction.

"Kit. Hear you have a situation."

A most unladylike snort.

"They knocked us over for five big ones, G. Whole evening's take on the tables."

Behind her, hangdog and glum, her Pit Boss, erstwhile head of security. A potato-faced man, greying hair cut short, with the disillusioned eyes of a man who has crawled into a bottle, and crawled out of it again. Someone got past him, got guns past him, and he is not happy. Has one arm in a sling, but stung professional pride has him still on his feet. Gives G a sour twisted smile.

"Leastways I got you a bullet to match up."

"Appreciate it, Mac. How did they get guns past you?"

"Found something rigged to the sensor array." Jerks his head. "Left it for your girl."

Honey is already trotting off. Anything with wires and like to go boom, that's her province. G looks after her, a crease of worry flitting across his face fast and gone, then he turns a bland face back to Miss Kit. Despite that, he has a suspicion that those blue eyes didn't miss much.

"Shall we?"

"After you, ma'am." Gestures politely, follows her back up the steps.

0000

Miss Kit has what amounts to a penthouse, top of the club. But she has an office, too, spacious and gracious, behind the main floor. One wall has a bank of monitors. Despite the weathered board and the slightly rubbed velvet of the decor, the electronics here are tight.

G sits intent, absently sipping from a cup of rather good coffee that Honey has placed at his elbow. Rest of the team are back, and ready to report.

"Knock-out on the sensor array was a home-made job, but smart." Honey puts the thing on the desk. It was once a coffee tin - you can still make out the logo. "Luckily the table cameras are on a separate system, or we'd be really blind." Little frown between the dark eyes. "Strange that they blanked out the array, and came in blasting anyway."

Rik confirms it. Jittery in the presence of dice, his eyes move quickly between the screens, occasionally roam back to Miss Kit's profile, and away.

"Shooting started outside the front doors. Just blasted their way in and grabbed everything lying loose."

"I may have found something." G half-turns in the chair, points to the main screen. Obediently, they gather round.

"Most people run from gunfire. These people," finger points, "ran towards it."

"A rival gang?"

"Could be. Look. First shot, and this man," figure is a sweep of long coat, overturning the chair, "reacts. This woman follows..." Glimpse of a dark face, hard and beautiful. "This is where they were heading."

Overhead camera, table five. The dealer is a weasel-faced man, dark eyes a little too close together. Gives a mean little smile, smooths back already slick dark hair. The players - the young man looks over his eyeglasses, face impassive. Every inch the killing gentleman, from the sharp collar to the elegant shoes. At his shoulder, a girl lolls, blank-eyed, a painted doll. Suddenly, startlingly, she jerks upright, face abruptly alive, and with a surprising strength pulls him down off the chair.

"She saw them coming." Honey says.

G shakes his head, gentle admonishment.

"Look at the time stamp." Taps the screen. "That was a full thirty seconds before the first shot. And she had her back to the door."

Miss Kit looks at the freeze frame, eyes narrowed.

"Mac had just come to tell me that table five was winning big."

"Here's the meet." The man in the long coat has reached the pair. Although he's produced a gun from somewhere on his person, he isn't threatening anyone with it. Instead, he drops to one knee, checks the girl. The way he and the woman work, they are clearly a team, and clearly used to this kind of situation. She provides watchful cover. G watches the tapes intently, little frown as he draws his focus in, concentrates on the lips as the two men confront each other. His own move, as he shapes the words he can see.

"_...can't leave people bleeding, Captain..."_

"_...got no kit, Doc. And we got a pressing need to be elsewhere, the law comes looking..."_

Interesting.

Pancho takes his elbows off the private bar, and becomes all business.

"Some folks took off in a hurry out the back way, right enough. Followed the boots to the edge of the yard, but I reckon they had a vehicle waiting. Signs there was a mule parked up." Saves his best trick until last. "And I found this in the side road." Small earpiece sits in his broad, brown hand.

Dodge takes up the thread.

"Found their wavelength...stripped out the chatter, and it seems to be co-ordinates to meet. Some place west of town." Holds out a sheet. "Coverage isn't too good, but we got this off a heatscope. It's a ship. Small. Might be a firefly."

Rik gives a sudden rumbling laugh.

"Well, there ain't nothin' the G man likes more'n hunting bugs."


	2. Buggin' Out

2. Buggin' Out

Mal slaps the wheel irritably. It ain't like Jayne to drop out of contact. Granted they'd had to leave in kind of a hurry, but he'd been real clear about keeping the link open.

"Now how come you didn't pick up that trouble?"

River is indignant.

"Wasn't aimed at us. Got so much chatter going on, didn't hear them until the order to shoot." Looks shame-faced. "Was counting cards." Still has a wedge of bills clasped in her hands. "Blood money." She adds, sadly. Dark eyes fix on Mal. "Going to have to tell the catlady we mislaid him."

"I just hope he hasn't lost himself in some bar." Mal snaps.

"It's a town full of show-girls and whisky." Simon retorts. "Can you drive a little more smoothly, Captain? I'm trying to get this bullet out."

Zoe, unwilling possessor of the bullet, grits her teeth. Shot is lodged in her armour, and hasn't broken skin, but it hurts like a _liu mang_ to breathe. River forbears to thump her brother while he's working, but glares.

"Going to look. Got eyes. Won't touch."

"Well, we can't stop for him. He'll have to catch up." Mal is truly not looking forward to telling Gia they lost Jayne someplace. Particularly not some place with bullets flying.

0000

Pancho has the earpiece, found the channel.

Irritable voice.

"Jayne, where'n hell are you?"

And then in the background, a clear, high voice.

"Other ears listening." And the channel goes dead. Pancho pulls the thing out in exasperation.

"They're onto us."

"So we had better get moving out there before they leave."

"Road trip." Dodge and Pancho slap hands. Honey rolls her eyes, already checking her gun.

Miss Kit stops him by the door.

"You bring my money back, G." Mouth smiles. Eyes don't. "Not so fussed if you don't bring the shooters back."

"We're the good guys, Kit." Reaches out and pushes Mac back down into his chair. "You're going to have to sit this one out, Mac."

Mac gives a gusty sigh, not too displeased at not having to sit in a vehicle with Rik driving.

"I'll keep on here, see if there is anything useful in the witness statements."

0000

Out of town, the 'road' ceases abruptly. There is a spanking new spaceport to the south, where the tourists queue up meekly to be herded onto buses, into hotels and then out to a fleecing of their choice. There's also a working 'port, transports and cargo vessels. Some of those who come in at the former 'port are lucky; when the town has wrung them dry, they can sometimes get away on a tramp ship. However, most bitten that deeply don't ever leave, just hang around with a sick impatience until they scrape their stake together and then head back to where their luck will change. Some day. When the dice fall right.

But if you drive out west, then suddenly the land changes, falls away into arroyos and canyons, scrub land and painted desert. Sometimes, they have had to scrape kids off the dried-up river beds, days when speed outruns skill. Rik, who grew up local, still drives like that. But luck loves him when he has a wheel, however much she turns her face away at the tables.

0000

"How the hell can you lose something as big as he is?"

"He din't make the rendez-vous, is all I'm saying."

Mal backs up as Ilargia actually slaps him in the chest. Then she turns, with unerring instinct, on the weakest member of the line-up.

"Why wasn't he in the casino with you?"

Simon looks twitchy.

"He got...approached by one of the girls..." Hastens on in the face of her expression. "He told her he was a married man, and when she didn't want to take 'no' for an answer, he...ran away."

It had been quite amusing, actually. Big man had been an obvious target; the sharply dressed money already had a piece on his arm. It hadn't seemed like a problem to let him go. Mal had already made contact, and they had done their deal. The rest of the crew had long since learnt the hard way that Simon was a poker fiend; he had the face for it. With River in tow, the Tams were ready to clean up at the tables. And they had been well ahead, too, when River had suddenly jerked upright, and then dragged him onto the floor. He hadn't even had time to be surprised before the whole place went to hell.

"So you left him behind? With shooting?"

"He's a grown man..." Mal growls, rubbing his chest. She has small hard fists.

"He's a trigger-happy idiot! You know if anyone starts a firefight, he'll want to be in on it."

0000

Watching from below the skyline. The ship isn't new. But it has the compact lines of something that works, something well maintained. Tucked under the canyon wall, not too noticeable unless you happened to be looking for it, a cargo vessel, with no visible armament. Dodge levels the heatscope. Three people in the cargo bay, two of them obviously having a row, one trying to intercede. Moves over the ship. One in the cockpit. And what seems to be one moving on the edge of the heat source that's the engines.

"Got five people on the scope..."

Cold metal against the base of his skull.

"You missed one." Voice is calm, flat. He knows who it belongs to. Shame washes hotly over him, as he has to allow himself to be marched down the hill, his own earpiece confiscated.

Pancho swears, from his own viewpoint, as he sees that hangdog figure marched up the ramp, shield against bullets.

"G, they got Dodge..."

"We most surely do." Voice breaks in on the transmission, calm drawl with a hidden edge. "Now, what say we stop dancing round the hills like will'o'the wisp and meet up like civilised folk."

G stands up suddenly, walks down the hill. Honey bites off a curse and zig-zags after him.

"Man, he is gonna get himself shot doing this." Rik takes a more circumspect route down, keeping cover. Knows Pancho is doing the same.

0000

Dodge has his wrists tied, but not viciously. The coffee-skinned woman has her gun pointed negligently at him. He reckons one wrong move and she'd blow him away just as casually. The leader of this little group, the man in the long brown coat, is still arguing with another woman. She has a nasty look in her green eyes and a very large knife.

"Now we know that this fella here has his earpiece, so I think we should find out the why of that. But that don't mean you can go carving him into steaklets."

Movement in the rocks makes Zoe turn, and in an instant, everybody armed is drawing down on everybody else.

Rik finds himself looking down the barrel of a sawn-off Winchester. Zoe finds herself looking down the barrel of a Callahan. Neither of them blink.

"Nobody fire!" Both G and Mal bark the order.

Rik pulls up his gun with a muttered curse. Zoe, slower and calmer, puts up her weapon with studied grace. But Honey still has her pistol braced, clear head-shot on Mal. Mal moves his hand away, allows his pistol to hang from his fingers.

"Always outnumbered, always outgunned."

"Does seem to be the way of things, sir."

The stocky man in black, the one who gives the commands, steps forward abruptly, and Mal is slightly surprised to be greeted with an outstretched hand.

"Captain?..."

"And you would be?"

"The Law. Come looking."

Tension in the Captain, deceptive calm in his voice and face, eyes dangerous.

"For what?"

"A great deal of money, Captain."

"The shooting at that casino." Surprisingly, the man settles. "We were just innocent bystanders."

"You'll understand that I can't take that on trust."

"Oh, I don't trust anybody. 'Specially those that have something of mine. Where did you get that earpiece?"

"At the scene of the shooting."

Mal goes still, a deadly calm.

"And how did you get it?" (Behind him, the woman he was arguing with has gone white. A younger woman in overalls has appeared, puts an arm round her.)

"Found it lying in the street." Half turns to the pale woman. "No-one with it."

0000

Things are still tense. Dodge is free, rubbing his wrists, wondering if he dare ask for his gun back. Rik, armed enough for all of them, is still regarding Zoe with an unblinking stare. She is ignoring him magnificently. Honey is close up behind G, protective shadow. And Pancho, deceptively casual, leaning his elbows back on the ramp, grinning wickedly at Kaylee. Might just be coincidence that he spits near Simon's shoes.

Ship is small, and but it will take time to search it. Mal, all set to rile up, settles as G gives quiet but firm orders.

"We'll be thorough, but tidy. Nothing gets broken. This is someone's home. Be respectful, people."

0000

"Found a gorram arsenal back there." Rik shakes his head in awe. "Someone's a collector."

"We'll need to check if any of them have been fired recently."

Even discounting anything the wrong gauge for the shootings, it still leaves a tidy pile for Rik to work his way through. Sighing, he picks up the next one. Enough hardware on this wall to take the town down. Runs his hand down the barrel. All lovingly tended, oiled and cleaned. All of 'em in perfect order, and none of them smelling of anything more than gun oil.

0000

Mal waits, arms folded, staring down the man. Who, irritatingly enough, doesn't appear to notice, a pair of wire-rimmed glasses slipping down his nose as he reads his notes. This is a different order of law-man to what he's used to, part gunslinger, part scientist.

"You were expecting trouble?"

"I always expect trouble."

"So, you were attending a meeting at which you felt it advised to come armed. Did you choose the venue?"

"No." Mal admits. "Just our bad luck to be there."

It doesn't surprise Honey to find a stack of coffee tins and some familiar wiring in the engine room. This is definitely where that device came from. Puts the evidence down on front of G.

"So what exactly does this do?"

Mal shrugs.

"Best ask the one as built it."

This turns out to be the young woman in the overalls. In amongst the flood of 'circuit feeds', 'impulse coils' and 'feedback clamps', they get a general idea.

"You knocked out the recognition software for weapons or retinal scans, by putting the Cortex system on a bypass. No feeds in or out."

"Once you get an advertising jingle in your head, it can be murder." A voice says solemnly from behind him. "Prefer not to be distracted."

It's the little painted creature from the casino. Takes him a moment to realise that she's holding a handful of cash. Dodge is behind her.

"She was sitting up in the cockpit, playing with a bunch of toys." Grins. "Notes were just sitting under 'em."

"Treasure was guarded by terrible lizards." Brightens and holds it out to Pancho. "Swap it for the pretty toy in your boot."

How she saw the derringer beats him.

G is watching with a slightly bemused stare. But River allows Pancho to pounce, lets him have the money with no more than a pout, then drifts over to drape herself on Simon's shoulder.

"Any money we took out of that casino, we won, fair and square."

"So you claim." G tilts his head. "I know the way Miss Kit runs those tables. There is very little chance of you winning anything."

"Odds were stacked against us, right enough. But we got ourselves someone real good at figuring those odds."

One eyebrow flicks up.

"I would like to meet someone who can play like that. This could be settled over a hand or two."

"I ain't interested in games."

"Neither am I. That was not a request, Captain."

Two sets of blue eyes, assessing, measuring. Then Mal nods.

0000

Odd situation. All gathered around the dining table of the ship. Mal tosses a pack of cards to G. He hands them to Rik, takes his own seat.

The smartly dressed young man sits upright in his chair. River lolls indolently at his shoulder, casts a sultry look at Pancho.

"You got a name, cowboy?"

"I do. An' what would your name be, darlin'?"

"That would be none of your business." Simon is crisp. G raises an eyebrow.

"And you are?"

"I'm...the Doctor."

"Doctor who?"

"Just...the Doctor. And this is my companion..."

"Miss Edith." Girl gives a slow, slack smile. "I'm his lucky charm." Smile droops, and she points. "He has the two of diamonds up his sleeve."

"You accusin ' me of cheating?" Rik demands.

"Yes."

Rik sighs, shakes the card out of his sleeve. River reaches out, scoops the cards up, stacks, riffles, cuts them.

"I can play too."

G is watching the swift movement of her fingers.

"I think we would lose."

"You would." She assures him. All the languid mannerisms gone, she's older, harder. "I wanted five big ones, we would have walked it out of there. But," a sweet smile, "not greedy. Plenty to go around." Hands G the cards.

They are all shuffled into perfect order.

"Helluva a tracking party for five hundred credits." Mal remarks. G stares at him.

"Five hundred? Kit told me five thousand went out the door."

"Not with us."

"She had no reason to lie about the amount. Man steals one credit, I will find him."

"Then I'm thinking we may be laying across someone else's trail." Mal sets his jaw. "We got a crewman went missing at that time..."

"Wouldn't be the first man walked out on his life, with a pocketful of cash to start again." Pancho's seen it all.

Slapshot echoes round the kitchen. Rik grabs Ilargia before she can get the backswing in. Pancho works his jaw.

"Now, hold hard, little lady..."

"That firebrand would be..."

"Our missing man's wife." Mal sighs. "Now I'm hoping he didn't do anything dumb..."

"Even if he did, he wouldn't just disappear." She goes limp in Rik's grasp. "He wouldn't."

"Wouldn't leave you. Didn't." Voice that speaks with such authority belongs to the girl. "Stories collided. Wandered into someone else's plot."

G's eyes narrow briefly.

"Where did you find the earpiece?" He asks Pancho.

"Just past the corner of Sunset and Sinatra."

"That is the direction the shooting came from."

"What's on that street?" Simon asks suddenly.

"Usual run of bars and clubs. And there's Delmonico's."

"High-end fancy restaurant." Rik grins, a memory of his own. "Get a lot of big spenders in there. Real steak dinners."

Crew look at each other in sudden surmise.

"That would do it." Mal says, quietly. River puts her small hand over Ilargia's.

"He was going to take you there." She's figured it, part her gift, part just knowing how the big man is. They all see it hit home. Ilargia sinks into a chair, no longer taut, and stares. G frowns as the possibilities strike him.

"If your man walked up on a situation, there may have been trouble."

"You have no idea how right you are." Mal assures him sincerely. Looks to Ilargia, the stark worry in her face, lowers his voice. "'Cos if he walked up on a situation, I'm damn sure we'd know about it by now."

"Would he have panicked, sight of armed people?"

Zoe actually snorts with laughter, the first unguarded reaction they have seen. Mal grins, shakes his head.

"For a start, he's about your man there's size. And he's not got himself a placid disposition." Sobers some. "Any shooting, he'd have been shooting back."

Zoe murmurs to Mal.

"You don't reckon Jayne did do something stupid, sir?"

"No." Mal sighs. "Don't say he wouldn't snatch cash, but a solo heist? He'd have come back to boast." Rubs a weary hand over his face. "I'm guessing that he ran into whatever was going down."

"He isn't even properly armed." Ilargia frets miserably. "Just two small pistols and a few knives."

"I thought you said he wasn't armed?" G is startled.

"That does count as unarmed for him." Mal allows his eyes to wander meaningfully in the direction of Rik. "Those are his toys. Best tell your man not to leave any scratches."

"We'll need a description."

Ilargia focuses on them, pulls herself together.

"Male, white, six foot four, muscular build, short brown hair, beard, blue eyes. Forty next birthday. Has a tattoo of a dragon on his left shoulder."

Honey notes it quickly, frowns.

"Any other distinguishing features? Scars or the like?"

Ilargia sighs, holds out her hand for the pad.

"We're going to need a bigger note."

"Gorram. Should be easy to find." Rik mutters.

"Man, what does this dude do?" Pancho whispers back.

"Judgin' by the hardware, anything involves extreme violence." Rik is still a little glazed over that gun collection. Dodge ventures a thought of his own to Simon.

"You're really sure he didn't leave her?"

"Well, so far, he's hijacked a ship, run into a blazing building and beaten a man to death for her." Simon gives a slight smile. "We're so looking forward to Valentine's Day."

G is already speaking to Mac.

"...find out who was on the front desk at Delmonico's last night, and pass on this description..."

0000

"This is making no sense." Dodge groans.

G speaks reluctantly.

"It makes perfect sense, if we believe what they say. Two separate activities. These people set a disabler on the scanner array for their own purposes, which, in this particular case, was not robbery. Then they got caught up in the shooting, and in the process, lost their crew member. They really think he didn't leave of his own accord?"

"He didn't take Vera."

"His wife?"

"His favourite gun."

"He names his guns?"

"You name your cockroaches." Honey reminds him. G purses his lips, nods.

"True. So, ruling out voluntary disappearance, the options are - involuntary disappearance, for ransom..."

"The firing pattern indicates a complete unconcern for life - they certainly shot one bystander on the street that we know of."

"Which leaves...involuntary disappearance, unconnected with our incident."

"Stories colliding." They look at Honey. She shrugs, a little embarrassed. "Like the girl said."

G issues his orders.

"Search every residence, warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse and doghouse..."

"We got a fugitive?"

"We have a potential witness."


	3. While You Were Snoring

3. While You Were Snoring...

Delmonico's has a maitre d', a balding hawk-faced man who manages to give the unwarranted impression of superiority. He's far too important to notice anyone without a reservation, and deeply unhelpful. Manages to convey that Mac is lowering the tone just by standing in the hallway, and his face tightens at the mere suggestion that someone without a tie would have been allowed over the threshold.

Mac, having been stone-walled quite effectively, turns to go, before his desire to thump the man ruins good community relations. But as he stumps disconsolately down the steps, a voice hails him quietly.

The waitresses at Delmonico's are just that, nothing more. She's a tall girl, has half a head on Mac, but she's neatly and soberly dressed. The effect is rather more attractive than any amount of glitter and feathers.

"I remember someone like that." Her rather grave face breaks into a sudden smile. "He was just about to punch Mr Conrad when the shooting started. He dropped him right in the salad cart and took off."

That cheers Mac up something considerable.

0000

"...so we have a time-scale for our missing man. And we may have someone who saw him after he left Delmonico's."

"May have?"

Mac pulls a face.

"Not what you might call a reliable witness, G. It's Wannabe."

"Oh." G sighs. "I suppose that's better than no leads at all. I'd better come back and talk to him."

"We ain't stayin' grounded if one of our own is in trouble." Mal warns.

"Then I guess...you're deputized." G smirks at his expression.

Way it works out is that Mal and River go with G and Pancho. Originally, it was just to be Mal, but River climbs determinedly into the back of the vehicle.

"Going to need me." She says firmly. G looks at Mal.

"Do you get to argue with her?"

"No." Mal says frankly. "Always more trouble than it's worth."

0000

Wannabe is hunched in the corner of the cell, gnawing on a bone; his skinny frame is covered in a pelt of half-cured pig-skin, held together with rusty pins. Under his filthy dreads, restless eyes twitch, follow invisible flies. He's known for jumping out at the girls working the Strip. Mostly they just thump him, and shriek abuse until he runs away. Sometimes tourists take a capture of him; something wild from the edge of the 'Verse. But he was born on this planet, bottom of the heap, and he lives out of the bins at the back of the restaurants. When you're that far down, the only way to go is sideways.

"Wannabe cool, wannabe feared...wanna see the world burn..."

"We bring him in when it gets cold. Give him some spare ribs and he's quite happy."

The wreckage looks sideways at them, mouth stained crimson with sauce.

"Don't go into the casinos...lizards try and kill you."

"Hasn't done a very good job with the facial scarring." River says critically.

"Cut my face up? Lady, you crazy?" Dark eyes glint at her, sudden feral intelligence. "Spite my face. Watch the birdie."

"He's half-lucid a quarter of the time. Unless you have a specialist in translating ravings, I wouldn't bother."

"The chemical imbalance caused by surgical disorder of the higher cognitive functions can produce an effect not dissimilar to that of prolonged exposure to psychotropic compounds." River sighs. "Takes one to know one."

Wannabe sidles up to the bars, and makes a grab for her. Almost bored, she yanks his arm down, crashes him face first into the bars, and he yelps.

"Wanna talk to the badge, man. You let me talk to the badge."

"Are we going to have a problem?"

Wannabe shakes his head, far as he can, and when she lets go of him, he backs up, eyes her warily.

"Tough birdie."

"Peck your eyes out." She promises him. "What did they see?"

"Was dancing with the devil when the moon went blue." Cackle of laughter. "Bad wolf shootin' at the kitty-cat...big dog went to chase 'em."

"Stray dog?"

"Has his own moon to howl at." The derelict grins, a ruin. "Big badda boom. Black and white and red all over. Guess he was still alive when they scraped him up."

"The shooters took him?" Mal asks urgently. Wannabe darts to the bars, drools sauce at him.

"You not been listening? Was penguins, man." Hops from foot to foot, giggles. "Live up high, although they cannot fly...birdie, birdie, birdie with a broken wing...lion didn't get you."

"It's the ones in the corner you have to watch for." She assures him.

Mac swears quietly.

"Wolves...G, you reckon it might be Marlon and his boys? It's the kind of dumbass violence they might pull."

"Would explain why none of the locals saw a thing." Pancho says sourly.

They call themselves the Wolf Pack. It makes them sound like something organised. In reality, they are a rabble, scavengers on the outskirts of the criminal world. Marlon, vast gut straining his biking leathers, fancies himself as a gang-leader, but what he has consists of the gutter scrapings, men so damaged by drink, drugs and violence that their idea of a cunning plan is to run full tilt at a building, guns blazing.

River steps away from the bars. Wannabe is off into his own world again, flailing at bats that only he can see.

"Jayne decided to play in the traffic. Not your shooters. Looking for someone heading out of town along that road."

"There's very little out that side of town. Just runs up into the mountains..." G stops. "I think I know where he might be..."

0000

Jayne opens one eye cautiously. Gorram, but his head hurts. He can hear voices shrillin' - must be Jo and Em in from school. Well, Ma'll be at 'em to pipe down... Present snaps back and he half-sits up, drops back with a grunt. Bandaged ribs, bandaged head, and...someone's taken his pants.

Looks about him, well alert now. Waking up in pain without someone waiting to dish out some more is always a bonus. Place is plain, but real clean, lime-washed walls, and real sheets on the bed. Bright sunshine coming in through a window, and that makes him frown. Last thing he remembers is night-time, hearing shooting...running. Winces. It all goes kinda fuzzy after that. Manages to get up on his elbows, draws in a sharp breath. Not as young as he was, and these damn ribs keep taking a pounding. But he's some place he's not supposed to be. Frowns. Things slip in and out, shapes and colours. Must be what it's like for li'l crazyboots...

Now, them voices don't sound like Kaylee or Li'l Wing. But they are girls' voices. Has a sudden cold horror. There have been times when he's lost a day and woken up in a cathouse, head pounding. But he don't remember drinking. Last thing he does remember is some slinky piece...

("...nothin' doing, girlie. I'm a married man."

"So're half the fellas in here." A pout which could test a Shepherd.

"But I take my vows serious...you leave my belt be...")

If he's got himself rolled in a whore-house, like some green gun-poke on shore leave, then he's a dead man. He's told Mal afore now, he takes his vows real serious, 'cos he reckons he ever cheated on Larji, she'd cut his balls off with one of the kitchen knives. Prob'ly a blunt one. An' he'd deserve it.

But the thought of kitchen knives calms him some. He'd cut and run afore he got into worse trouble. And he'd gone to look for some place fancy to eat. Kinda place you could take a woman used to fine dining - fresh fork for every course and wine that didn't come out of the engine room.

Manages to get himself up on his feet, holding onto the rickety iron frame of the bed. Weak as a new-born kitten, and feelin' like he's been drinking moonshine, but he's up. But a man needs pants if he's gonna face the world. More important, whoever has taken his clothes also has his weapons. Now, that makes Jayne feel more than naked. He's hefting the water jug, estimating the weight of it, when the door opens...

...And Jayne nearly ruptures something, pulling his swing.

The elderly nun, confronted by a naked man, drops her tray and screams her head off.

0000

"Nuns? Jayne has been kidnapped by nuns?"

Simon just loses it. Lies down on the table and becomes hysterical. Kaylee stuffs a fist in her mouth. Even Zoe's mouth develops a twitch.

"We can't be totally sure." It may be the distant signal that is making Mal's voice wobble. "But it would seem that a bus belonging to the convent was seen heading out of town at the right time."

Ilargia's face is a picture. Possibly one painted by somebody on serious drugs.

0000

Jayne backs up fast, grabs up the blanket from the bed. The nun is still shrieking, eyes tightly shut.

"Sister Ruth, stop that noise at once."

The Mother Superior has the kind of face suggests a very bad smell. This is a woman could make God eat his peas. Turns disapproving eyes on Jayne, who suddenly feels six again. "What are you doing out of bed, sir? Get back at once."

"Yes'm." Jayne sits, thoroughly disorientated. Nuns. He just nearly brained a gorram...a nun.

"I understand that you may be a little...confused, but that is no excuse for incivility."

"No, ma'am." Resists the urge to put his hand up to speak. "Where'n...where am I?"

"The Convent School of St Faith."

"Look, lady...ma'am, I got a wife gonna be worrying where I am. Need my radio."

"We don't have a radio."

"I had one. L'il black ear thingie."

"You didn't have it when we picked you up."

Jayne blinks, winces. Memory is a scream of air-brakes, a wall of chrome...

"You hit me with a bus!"

"I'm real sorry." A very young and frightened face, peering round the Mother Superior. "I'm not used to double-clutching...and you ran right out in front of me."

"Sister Briony, I told you to stay with the students."

"Yes, Mother Dorothea."

"I gotta get back..."

"You are going nowhere yet. You cannot run through the halls naked. We have young girls here."

"Well, gimme my pants back."

Mother Dorothea weighs up the perils of having a man like this, all scars and muscles, roaming through the school, in front of impressionable teenage girls.

The poor man wouldn't stand a chance.

"We do not normally have men on the premises. I would thank you to stay in this room until we bring you your trousers."

She shuts the door with some finality.

Jayne takes in his situation.

"So...I'm in a girl's school, run by nuns. An' I'm the only man for miles." He casts a reproachful eye at the ceiling. "You couldn'ta done this to me when I was single?..."


	4. Dude, Where's My Firefly?

4. Dude, Where's My Firefly?

It's a dark and stormy night. Not quite raining, but sultry, sky hanging dark and heavy, sullen as a teenager. The shutters of the school are bolted, and the only sound...is the startling crack of wood, as the knife-blade finally snaps the latch.

Jayne slings a leg over the sill and peers out. It's a short drop to the little bit of garden outside. Then there's a wall. Then there's a whole lot of nothing.

It's a long way down. The convent is built on the edge of a cliff. In fact, Jayne takes one look at the trackway, and dismisses the idea of borrowing the bus. Reckons the thing is held together with rust and prayer, anyhow, and it makes him cold to think he was bumping about in the back of that with that flaky little nun driving it. Nothin' quicker than a straight line, anyhow.

Jayne has been giggled at by girls a deal of times in his life. Mebbe a year or so back, he would have grinned and flexed his muscles and leered. 'Cept these girls are younger than Kaylee or River, and that's all kinds of wrong. He ain't ever bin one for chasin' children. Sighs. Life was much simpler when he was just a big mean bastard with a big mean gun. Now, he's got responsibilities. Got a wife, and got a crew as needs him. Knows his place, and it's behind Mal, watching that the man don't get them all screwed over, being noble and decent and all that gorram foolin'.

Hopes like hell Mal ain't taken off without him. That gives him cold chills. Left on this planet without his wife or his guns. There's times he can't figure which he'd miss more. In his mind, a picture of _Serenity's_ kitchen. And a little woman in a too-big apron looking up from a pan with her face flushed from the heat, giving him a smile that's all his. Din't have to give coin for it, don't have to share it. Just is, is all.

She wouldn't leave without him.

Sure as he knows anything. She wouldn't leave without him. So just mebbe the others wouldn't, neither. He's just gotta trust that they think he's worth something. And trust don't come so easy, he knows.

He ain't the best of men. Tries to treat her right. But if the Doc goes back and tells her that he was bein' propositioned...no, she knows that he don't go foolin'. And the li'l bit will set her right. Mebbe. Picks up his pace.

But...Mal might not stay grounded just for one gunhand as hasn't got the best of records. 'Course, they've been through a deal, and Jayne was right there with them on Miranda, holding that line. Came back for them on Hecate, when that _hun dan_ had them...but Mal wouldn't go leaving the innocent in trouble, and they was only there 'cos Jayne took the ship. Mal hadn't wanted to go rescuing folks. He shoulda stayed in the casino with 'em, not run like some rabbit. Turning his back on temptation, the Shepherd would say, but a man should be strong enough to turn his back without runnin'. Pace slows.

They ain't gonna believe him. They're gonna think he took off in pursuit of women and whisky same as he always used to. Ain't a one gonna believe that some big, rough space trash was looking to take his wife someplace classy. Hell, that stuffed shirt hadn't even wanted to let him in through the gorram door.

More bits coming back to him, long as he don't look at them head on. Engines. Whoopin' and hollerin'...

Mebbe Mal weren't in a state to be going places. Anyone had clipped Mal, mind, and he reckons River woulda made the Maidenhead look like a dance recital. Grins unwillingly to himself. Anyone had clipped li'l crazy, Mal would have taken them to pieces bare-handed, always excepting the Doc hadn't got there first. Thankful as all get that Larji weren't there. Nor Kaylee. Anyone shootin' at Zoe better make their first shot count or it was gonna be their last. Same for Mal. An' the Doc might be soft, but he weren't dumb.

Well, it ain't much of a plan. Planning ain't his job. He does what he's told to do. But...some folks shot at his crew. Which means there's some folks need killing. So, he's gotta get back to where they parked.

0000

One of Rik's bad habits is expensive, hazardous and unchancy. (The other bad habit is the gambling.) Miss Kit drums her fingers on the desk, eyes narrowed. She could kill you, and make you like it.

"So who didn't see anything this time?"

Nobody crosses the Wolf Pack. They do what they want, go where they please. And nobody ever sees them do anything, 'cos nobody wants that kind of house guest turning up.

"Man's from out of town." Mac says.

"You don't say." An eyebrow rises, and Kit smiles, a rich and faintly predatory curve of the full lips. "Oh, Marlon is not gonna be pleased."

Mac is worried.

"Word gets out that there's a witness, he's gonna be a dead man walking."

"Then we just have to hope that G finds him first." Kit says calmly. "Sure be a shame if Marlon and his boys crossed the law in the execution of their duty. Got in the line of fire or the like."

There are times when Mac thinks fondly of his time in the Sheriff's office, walking the streets.

0000

Mal keeps his eyes shut for most of the drive up the track. Can't call it a road. There's places would make a goat turn dizzy. So he don't know what River is giggling about until he opens his eyes.

The Convent School of St Faith started out as a school, sure enough. But it weren't one run by nuns. There's a familiarity to the elegant line of the walls that even severe lime wash can't hide.

"How in hell did a bunch of nuns end up in a Training House?"

G smirks faintly.

"The...previous tenants relocated when the war began to look likely."

0000

G comes out a lot faster than he went in, and he's alone. Answers Mal's frown.

"...Seems they did have him, but he took it into his head to leave." G looks down over it. Miles of rough terrain. Sheer mountainside cut by river gorges, impenetrable woodlands full of wild animals and wilder people, and barren desert that would boil you in the midday sun and freeze you to the ground at night. "We simply don't have the manpower to scout after him."

Pancho slaps the steering wheel in frustration. All this way, and their one hope has flown the coop.

"He's alive and he's armed. He'll be heading home." Mal speaks with a weary confidence.

"Captain, there's forty miles of hell between here and town. If your man is stuck out in the badlands...well, there are all sorts of dangerous things out there."

"Yeah." Mal sighs. "And one of them is him."

G looks at them. The man isn't joking.

0000

River wakes with her face pressed against a coat, warm leather beneath her cheek, the quiet rumble of his voice.

"...seen him take a bullet without slowing much. An' he'll eat anything can't get away best two outta three. Night or two out in the woods won't worry him."

Pancho is driving, capable hands on the wheel, leaving G able to turn and talk quietly with Mal over the back of the seat.

"This Security Officer of yours, is he ex-Special Forces or something?"

"No. He's just what he sounds like. Big, mean and ugly. An' I'd have lost all my money twice over betting against him ever settling. 'Specially with someone like our Gia."

"They do sound like a...slightly mismatched couple."

"I still can't figure them." Mal shakes his head. "Woman's got a blind spot six foot four when it comes to that big idiot. And he dotes on her."

"Love isn't an equation." A sleepy voice admonishes him. "Jayne doesn't share. Likes the fact that she's smarter than him."

"Darlin', there's rocks smarter'n Jayne."

"Hmph." Sharp little elbows as she makes herself more comfortable. "Nothing to figure. Real people. Not painted puppets. Not our business." Settles again. "Wake me up when we get home."

"She's a smart one."

"She is."

G doesn't miss the defensive tightening of the man's jaw, the way his arm instinctively curls.

"What does she do on the ship?"

"'Sides plague me? She's my pilot." Mal looks down at the dark head.

0000

Dodge is still shaken at having a well-spoken woman threaten to slice his ear off. He would like nothing better than to pack up and leave this whole crew of oddballs to whatever they were doing. But G said to stay put until Rik had finished cataloguing the gun collection.

It was going to be a long night.

Brightens a little when the pretty girl in the overalls brings him a cup of coffee.

"Thank you, Miss...Kaylee."

"T'ain't nothin'." She grins sympathetically. "I done my share of sitting whilst other folks was working. Can get mighty dull." Looks up sideways at him. "I don't reckon Gia woulda sliced you up."

"She was just fooling?"

Kaylee hesitates. But her natural honesty wins out.

"No. Reckon Cap'n woulda stopped her. Leastways until he found out what you'd done with Jayne."

"That's...curiously unreassuring." But getting background information never hurts. "Is she security, too?"

"Gia?" Kaylee laughs. "She's just the cook."

0000

There were a lot of things Mal hated about being in command. One of them was breaking bad news to kinfolk. Watching the hope die in Ilargia's eyes brings back the ghosts. He won't be sleeping tonight.

0000

"We got folk bunked all over the ship." Zoe smiles faintly. "Doc's got himself in a world of trouble."

"Oh?"

"Doped Gia to make her sleep."

"And the trouble?"

"At some point, she's gonna wake up."

"Ah." Mal shudders. "Well, we'll deal with that when we have to...where's he hiding?"

"Kaylee's bunk."

The unspoken part of the conversation. The crew quarters and bridge can be shut off from the passenger dorm.

"Where do I sleep?" River asks. Mal considers, then sighs.

"You can sleep in my bunk - I won't be using it."

0000

River looks around critically. The Captain hasn't been watering his plants again. Nips off a few dead leaves. Picks her way daintily through the debris, gathers up a towel and folds it, removes a shirt and two books from the bunk. He's been reading poetry again - always a bad sign. Makes a face at the capture he has on his desk, and puts it face down. _Jian huo. _

Looks at the maps on the walls with wondering eyes. Pictures of other worlds, unknown territory. She finds the hollow in the mattress made over the years. Smells of him. Safety, strength. If she is his compass, then he is her map.

0000

Mal looks at the little person sleeping in his bunk, and smiles.

"C'mon, _mei-mei, _time to rise and shine."

Little snuffle answers him. He sits on the edge of the mattress, pokes a finger into the sleeping warmth.

"Luckily the weapon's safety catch is engaged." A grumpy voice reproaches him. "Wouldn't poke Zoe or Jayne awake."

"Wouldn't poke Jayne with a long stick." Mal hadn't even considered that waking River might be dangerous. _(Could have ended up flat on my back with her on top of me.) _Gives him a...shiver. A dark eye peers over the blanket.

"Such a boob. Should do what Jayne does - wake with care. And tea."

He actually considers it for a moment, before he remembers that he is the Captain and this is his bed. Finds a slim, pale ankle instead, and tickles the foot. There is a squeak and a scramble.

"Go on - you gotta protect your brother from the wrath of Cobb. That woman's picked up some bad habits."

0000

She has her bad days, still. Captain hadn't wanted her to risk the casino, worried that it would set off anything from a migraine to a massacre. So she and Kaylee had designed the 'spambot' (and it gave her a good deal of satisfaction to use their works against them, punching brisk holes in the logo for the wiring.)

But now she can feel a vague, empty pain. Not the sharp keening (stake through the heart forever) that can be Zoe, or the desolation (storm of ashes across a barren plain) that is the Captain. This has some of the ache that Simon feels when he thinks of the smallness of his world now. (He doesn't like the Black, cannot feel the Great Dance.)

Knows this mind now. Walks the memory palace. Rooms of ice and mirrors, where despair is a cold thing, caged away and not allowed to roam, but it scratches at the walls, mutters its poison. Kept at bay by one small flame of belief. Can't allow the light to die.

0000

Ilargia wakes in their bunk, and misses Jayne. The times she's cursed the heavy warmth of his arm, the snoring...she wants them back. The grunt and grumble of a large body refusing to relinquish the blankets, the lazy gleam of one blue eye bent on misbehaving. All of a sudden, this is a cold and alien place, and she can't stay. Scrambles up the ladder, and goes to sit in the kitchen. Makes her own tea, and refuses to weep into the cup.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Not this long drawn-out waiting, as time goes by with nothing but greyness to it. If life was to be short, then let it be a glorious conflagration.

"Not a rocket. Lamplight in the window to guide him home." River slides around the doorframe. "Alone and afraid. Shouldn't be either." She grins. "Take more than head-butting a bus to stop Jayne. Simon says the man has the most incredibly well developed cranial density."

"Bloody idiot..." Looks away. But River catches the unspoken.

"Walks the line. Going to walk back to you."

"He'll come back." Mal catches the end of the conversation. "The man is impossible to get rid of. And have you ever known him to miss a meal?"

"It's not knowing, you see." Heels of her palms to tired eyes. "I could cope with knowing." Sharp glance up at Mal. "I'll stay behind, if I have to."

What it comes down to. _Serenity_ is home, because Jayne is there.

"We ain't going anywhere until we get him back." Mal gives her a smile. "There'll be other jobs. But we only got one Jayne."

"Thank you." Her honest relief and gratitude tell Mal more than she thinks.

"You got kinda used to fending for yourself, huh? Well, you get this straight. Ain't just you an' him looking out for each other. You're crew, now. And we don't leave crew."

Folds around her then, a sense of belonging. And a slightly grimy pair of arms. Kaylee has a wealth of hugs to share with folks as need them.

Mal looks down at River, who is frowning.

"You knowin' something you should be telling us, li'l one?"

"Lots of dangerous animals out in the wilds." Turns worried eyes up to his. "Some of them are very rare."

Mal can't help it. He laughs.

"River, darlin', anything dumb enough to jump out at Jayne deserves to be extinct."


	5. The Good, The Bad and the

5. The Good, The Bad and The Aesthetically Challenged

"I see Gia took issue with the whole sleepy-time thing..."

Simon takes the ice-pack off his eye, and returns Mal's badly-concealed smirk with a grim smile.

"The female of the species fights dirty."

"What did she hit you with?"

"River."

"Ouch."

Their little pilot is not a fan of unscheduled napping.

"So, do we mount another daring rescue, or is this another adventure in sitting?"

"Don't know the countryside, so I guess we just have to wait for a sign." Mal's mouth twitches. "Woulda been kinda fun to go rescue Jayne from a bunch of nuns, though."

Simon sniggers, winces, then puts the ice back over his eye.

"Not the other way around?"

"You din't meet that Mother Superior." Mal shivers. "Anyhow, our 'guests' are leaving, and they gave us back our winnings."

0000

It's a glum team heading back to town. Rik is sacked out across the back seat. He'd been up until the small hours with the gun collection. Only G seems unaffected by the mood. Pancho is grumbling.

"All that way, and we nearly had him. A chance to really clean up the streets."

"We know he was alive last night." Dodge ventures.

"Yeah, and instead of sitting pretty, he's gone walkabout in the woods."

Dubious looks.

"They don't like strangers up there." Honey grimaces. "Remember those film students?"

"We know the ground, but they know the man." G breaks in on the bickering. "We have a whole crew who think he'll be back."

"So what we gonna do? Sit on the riverbank and wait for him to float downstream?" Rik jibes angrily. G ignores him.

"We have to find him before he meets up with the ship. I don't think they would stay around anywhere for legal proceedings."

"Hell!" Rik jolts upright. "They got a bounty on 'em?"

A very cold gaze.

"We are solving a robbery. They haven't committed a crime on this planet..."

("That we know of..." mutters Honey.)

"...so we can't hold them."

Rik drops back again, face tight with frustration. But this is their town. They don't need Feds. G continues.

"If they move, I want to know. Keep watching the skies."

0000

Jayne looks at the stars above the trees. It's been a slow while working his way down the mountainside, and he should be thinking about catching a few hours sleep. He misses Larji. Got used to having a little warm something curled up next to him. Been a time or two he's rolled over without a thought, an' there's been squeaking, but it ain't ever been nothing a cuddle couldn't sort. Sighs. Got a ways to go and things to do before he can shut his eyes...

They get tourist fellas up here, sometimes, ones as reckon they can hunt. Don't take long afore they find out otherwise. Up here, you gotta know the territory. Read the signs, be at one with nature. Feral shadows slip through the night, barely a whisper of leaves in their passing, call-signs hidden in the small cries of night birds. Eyes in the trees, watching, reflecting the glint of the fire...

They spill out into the clearing, whoopin' and hollerin', set to put a little scare on. But the place is empty. No garish tents, just a small neat camp-fire. They get time to have a stare about, bemused, afore they find a face missing.

"Tector, you seen Deke?"

"Nope, thought he was followin' behind Eli."

"Last I saw he was uphill from Charlie..."

New voice from the trees drawls,

"Y'all lookin' for this?"

This ain't one of them soft city boys, up for the hunting. Nothin' with muscles like that ever sat behind a desk and bragged about bagging deer. And he has the boy Deke held in one brawny arm, seemingly impervious to the drumming of feet on his shins.

(Deke had thought he was doin' just fine, until a blade slid up under his chin, and a voice growled right in his ear.

"You're gonna track a man, don't get upwind of him when you bin eatin' garlic, dong ma?")

They stare at each other. Handful of shaggy mountain men, slung about with shotguns, and one stranger. But he ain't dressed fancy, and he caught one of their own, silent and easy.

"You gonna let him go?"

"Depends." But he ain't cut on the boy. Yet. That's a mighty fine big knife he's holding.

"You hunted men before, I'm thinking."

"Only if I'm bein' paid."

Great rumbling laugh breaks from one of the other men.

"Won't get much for Deke. He ain't even shaving yet."

0000

The mountain folk had been real nice. Was kinda like visiting his own kin up country back home. Been a long time since he enjoyed a possum stew that tasty. (Even has a note of the recipe for Larji.) Still prefers his guitar to one of them banjos, mind.

Early morning, he gets clear of the trees, and the green drops away. World stretches before him, a vista of barren flats and scrub. Smudge on the horizon might well be the city, but without lights, it ain't much to aim for. Jayne squints at the sky. It's gonna get hot out here real soon, so he'd best find the highway and start walking.

When the roadhouse comes into view, he's right glad to see it. Might be a dusty flyblown place (hell, if they had one horse round here, the locals prob'ly et it) but it'll have a link, mebbe he can 'phone home.

Leans on the bell. After a while, leans on it again. A tousled head pokes out of the door.

"Tha's right, hon. You gotta ring twice. Always hafta tell the postman that..." She hauls the door open. "Welcome to Bleeker's Bar and Grill."

Place falls quiet when he shoulders in, but there's something about the general size and shape of the stranger, means folks just turn back to their drinks. Ain't but a handful of men, anyhow, and the one waitress.

"Now what can I get you?" Glance of her eye is tired and professional, brightens into something a little more as she takes him in. "You look like a man with a good appetite..."

She would have been a looker, once, before time and booze took their toll. Under the puffy flesh of her jaw, good bones. A life going nowhere, counted out in coffee spoons and cigarette stubs, wasted in the dust besides a highway she never took.

"Leave the man be, Maggie. You wantin' coffee or somethin' stronger?" Seth Bleeker pulls a cloth from his shoulder, wipes the bar with it. Just moves the grease around a little, but he's making the effort.

"Coffee sounds real good." Jayne sniffs. "You servin' breakfast?"

"Fire up the griddle, Roy..."

"Uh-huhn." The fry-cook is a chubby man, straining the seams of his overalls, greying sideburns and thinning hair in a quiff. He croons quietly to himself, flipping eggs. Jayne leans on the counter.

"Say, you got a 'phone I could use?..."

0000

Startles all hell out of Mal when the wave comes in. He's expecting an earful from the Holdens, 'bout where their transport is, but the face on the screen is even more familiar.

"Mal?" Massive relief, quickly covered up with a scowl. "Guess you're all okay, then."

"Jayne? We're all fine. Where in hell you got yourself?"

"Ain't got no idea of where I am, Mal. Some roadhouse corner of no and place. Now lemme talk to 'Larji."

"She's kinda pissed..."

"So'm I. Bunch of nuns hit me with a freakin' bus."

Short of sitting on her, there is no way to keep Ilargia off the bridge when she hears that voice.

"Jayne, you asshole, where in hell..."

"I'm comin' home soon as I can, darlin'." That grin she's missed so much. "'Jacked a ship to come back to you afore, reckon I can do it again, I need to...don't cry, _bao bei,_ I'm comin' back to you..."

Mal backs off a little. Ilargia hasn't cried since he went missing, held it all in, in a way has had them all worried.

"Now, I ain't got but a credit or two lef..." And the signal blinks out.

Ilargia wipes her eyes, manages a laugh.

"We are going to get him?"

"Soon as we can. Don't leave crew behind, you know it." Flips switches. "People, our wanderer done popped his head up. River, get your li'l..."

"Everybody relax, I'm here." River slides into her seat. "Ready to rock and roll."

0000

Things have a way of getting about. And word is out that there might be someone could cause Marlon and his boys a world of trouble. Just a whisper on the streets. Takes its time to reach Marlon, and by then, it has to shout, rather than whisper, since drink and the sound of gunfire have addled the man considerable. But the message gets through. Means the whole posse of them saddle up, and roar out of town. A whole heap of ugly, wreathed in exhaust fumes, rolling down the road like all hell coming down.

0000

Miss Kit swishes into the station house like a delicately perfumed angel of death.

"G! We got a problem."

"We?" G raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Because of course you were going to tell me about that witness, weren't you?" Places a finger on his chest.

"We lost him, Kit."

"Well, it seems someone might have found him for you. Marlon and his boys just took off on the mountain road."

"G..." Dodge skids, grabs the doorframe in his haste. "Just hacked a wave...oh, hi, Miss Kit."

"Guess you're not the only ears in town."

"Then we better hope we get to him first." G checks his pistol. Kit falls in beside him.

"I got men and guns waiting outside." She says firmly. "And that's my money we're talking about."

G doesn't waste breath arguing. There were folks in this town figured a woman couldn't run a casino with the big boys. Most of them are breathing dirt. He merely bangs his fist on the lounge doorframe for attention.

"The game's afoot."

"Okay." Pancho claps his hat on. "Let's get rambling."


	6. Blue Harvest

6. Blue Harvest

Somewhere about sky level, there is bickering going on.

"He's 'near the mountains'. You didn't think to get co-ordinates?"

"They're mountains, River. Kinda hard to miss."

"Should hope so. Lucky I'm flying." Scornful glance. "We'll find one man in a desert, no problem."

"What am I supposed to do? Swoop down and ask a passing motorist for directions?"

"You're a man. Unlikely."

"Can't you..." Waves hands helplessly. "Sense him?"

An incredulous look.

"Little brain, big world."

"Guess that's a 'no', then. Kaylee, you had any luck tracin' that wave back?"

"Not a one, Cap'n. Went through the central city transmitter...you din't think to ask him where he was?"

Mal cuts the comm.

0000

"There's only one place between here and the mountains he could have got a wave out." G puts his finger on the map. "Doesn't even have a name."

At this point, _Serenity _looms up in the rear mirror. River has taken the logical approach and is following the road.

Even Rik's usual imperturbable calm receives a severe jolt, as he fights the wheel in the backwash.

"What the f..."

G holds his hat on with one hand, steadies Honey with the other.

"Follow that firefly!"

0000

"Need to get a horn fitted. Road-hogs."

0000

Jayne wipes the last of the gravy with a biscuit, sighs. World looks a whole lot brighter when you got yourself wrapped around a plate of breakfast and some coffee.

Peace is broken by the noise of engines. And memory roars back in a tide of petrol and cordite.

"You got any guns? Trouble's coming."

"We don't want no shootin' here..."

"Hell, ain't nobody wants shootin'. But I reckon it's what you're gonna get." Looks about. Coupla dirt farmers passing through at breakfast time, one scared owner and his whimpering wife, and one fry-cook. It ain't anything to be working with.

They got a handful of chop-shop specials and a souped-up skiff, ranging out behind Marlon. He rides a real muscle-hog, a custom chopper, speckled chrome bowing a little under his weight.

Marlon sends Crank and Grunt in. Men who would cheerfully eat a kitten sandwich, between them they have the social charm of vomit, and about the same intelligence.

"Now, we don't want no trouble..." Seth begins. Hand like a ham wrapped in nails swipes him flat. Maggie screams. (Jayne very gently eases back from the table.)

"Lookin' for a stranger." Crank looks about him.

"Le'ss ask the lady..." Grunt leers. Maggie can't help it. Her frightened eyes slide sideways.

They do a fair job of looming, 'cos Jayne is still sitting down.

"Word's out you might feel like squealin'."

"Way it goes round here, is you keep your mouth shut 'bout anything you might've saw."

"I got no idea who you are." Jayne half-lies. "But all I wanna do is get back to my wife."

"Mebbe we should come with you, say 'hi' to your miss..."

Jayne ain't ever been one to wait for the other fella to shoot first. Dumbass way of thinking. So the man's gun ain't even clear of the holster when he goes down with a slug between the eyes.

'Snick' of the shotgun chambering is awful loud.

"Could do with a little less conversation and a little more action..." Roy says quietly. "You get yourself gone."

"Now, you don't wanna get involved here, friend..."

"Y'ain't nothin' but a _hun dan,_" Roy pulls the trigger, "And y'ain't no friend'o mine."

First shot din't worry the boys outside. They reckoned someone got up in Crank's face. Problem solved. But the shotgun is a bit of a surprise, specially since it blows Grunt out the doorway.

Seems a good time to join Seth at floor level. World is gonna get a whole lot more exciting once those boys get their heads outta their butts and their guns going. Roy tows Seth by the collar (man's breathin', but little more) and they all scramble for the counter, in a cloud of shot and splinters.

"I hope you got a back way out."

"Through the kitchens. You ain't ever goin' out there..." Roy looks at him.

"Sometimes a man's gotta do..." Jayne gives a mirthless grin. "Just wish I had some o'my grenades with me, is all."

"Better take this."

Roy chucks over the shotgun. Jayne catches it out of the air, snags the ammo in passing. He actually hesitates a beat.

"You got any weapons?"

"I got a six-gun and some kitchen knives. And if that don't work, I'll piss on 'em." He's already levering up a trapdoor behind the counter. "Don't you worry none 'bout us."

Well, there ain't no more to be said. Jayne's still a mite fuzzy on the detail, but he's got folk trying to kill him, and he knows how that goes. He's got no desire to get trapped down a hole. Kicks out the back door of the kitchen, and round the side of the building, fast and low.

The skiff is a piece of _fei wu_, best of times, and having a shotgun emptied into the grill don't do it a mort of good. Don't do much for the driver, neither. Swerve and a crunch, and a whole lot of yelling, as the thing parks itself on a couple of folk. Jayne puts one judicious shot into the tank, and rolls clear...

0000

In a flat and barren landscape, a column of black smoke is very visible.

"Someone's blowing up the scenery." They exchange glances, chorus, "Jayne!"

0000

Smoke clears. Marlon bellows,

"He's one gorram man. How hard can it be to take him down?"

After that, it all goes terribly wrong. Jayne's been killing folk for twenty years, and he's got quite good at it. And he don't have to worry about hitting friends here. 'Course, Marlon's crew just blaze off regardless, so they ain't too fussed neither. Which stops a couple of unwary morons polluting the gene pool further. Jayne lets 'em waste lead a space, then pops out and takes his shot back.

Still, he ain't got endless ammo. And he ain't sure he can hold 'em much longer.

The air is suddenly wrenched apart by the most unexpected noise. The ear-splitting screech of massed strings and a fanfare of martial brass.

_Serenity_ comes down out of the sun like an avenging angel.

"Hi-jo-to! Ho!" River yells gleefully. Mal, holding grimly onto the other steering yoke, seriously regrets letting her put music on the external speakers. There's a strong whiff of frying circuits.

"I can smell something, River..."

"Yes." A beaming smile. "Victory!"

0000

The remnants of the Wolf Pack, unaware that a transport ship don't have guns, dive and scatter. Jayne takes the opportunity to dart across the road, ready to grab a pistol off a fella done medium rare.

"Hey! Asshole!"

Marlon, mad as hell, guns the engine, bears down on this one sonovabitch in his way.

Jayne, out of bullets, and out of time, looks about him. Only thing to hand is the chrome bumper hanging loose. Muscles bulge as he pulls it free, swings...

Last thing that goes through Marlon's mind is his nose.

0000

The man is down, but good. Jayne impounds his pistol, 'cos he won't be using it no more. There don't seem to be too many folk keen on moving much. Something about a large angry man with a bloody length of metal will do that to a person. Dying thunder of the ship's passing means he can hear sirens, so it might be time to get gone. First, though...

Shrugs on the jacket. There's a pair of mirrored shades in the pocket, miraculously unbroken. Settles them on his nose, and his face splits in a wide grin.

"Gorram. I always wanted me a bike."

Time to head on down the highway. He's goin' home.

(Jayne. Black leather. Motorbike. Enjoy)

0000

"Guess we don't hafta worry about a stand-off." drawls Pancho.

They survey the devastation that was the main street. This season, outdoor decor consists of wrecked vehicles, shot-up frontages and dead bikers. Apocalypse chic.

"Damn." says Rik, wonderingly.

"Man, what is this guy?"

"The ultimate unstoppable force." G strides over to the doorway, knocks on the shattered frame. "Hello, is there anybody alive in there?"

They help the Bleekers and Roy out of the cellar. Luckily Seth is still in no condition to appreciate the wreckage of his business. Roy quite calmly sets about making coffee for folks, as they begin the grisly business of collecting up the bodies.

Miss Kit eyes the row of stiffs with a calm face. Then she shrugs, smiles.

"If I can't have my cash back, I'll settle for retribution."

"Tomorrow is another day?" G suggests.

"That, and I just heard that the pleasure liner 'Quentin T' is due in." She's already striding back to her vehicle. "Got some redecorating to do." Stops by Rik, glances up. "Why don't you come up and see me?"

"Maybe I will." His feral grin. Maybe she sent the word out that brought these guys down. But hell, it's just business as usual in their city, and it's one less bunch of scum to deal with.

Pancho casts a suspicious eye at G. The man don't look too twitched at having his case collapse.

"You don't reckon he's here, do you?"

"No." G squints into the distance, points his binoculars. "Check out that dustcloud."

"That's Marlon's hog." Pancho says, grimly.

"Sure ain't Marlon ridin' it." Rik focuses his own glasses. "Not unless he's dropped seventy pounds."

Gets his first sight of the man they have been looking for the last couple of days.

Well, the face says 'thug'. But it has a bigass grin on it. That's not only Marlon's hog, that's Marlon's jacket.

"Not much use having a witness when all the suspects are gone."

"Along with the evidence."

"And half the street." Dodge peers into the hole behind them. "Glad as hell we didn't have to try arresting him."

"You and me both." G admits. "On the bright side, this is saving us a lot of paperwork."

0000

_Serenity _sets down on the first clear patch of ground, and the crew come tumbling out to greet their lost lamb.

Little speck of dust on the horizon becomes a cloud, and the full-throated roar of the machine fills the air, as it skids to a showy halt.

Jayne kicks the stand down, props his shades up and grins.

"Jayne!"

"Larji!" New toy is forgotten, as he wraps his arms round his wife. They don't even kiss to begin with, just holding on so tightly. "Told you I'd come back to you, _mi tao_. Take more than this 'Verse has got to stop me."

She turns her face up to his, eyes sparkling.

"You owe me a steak dinner, mister."

"You ain't keeping that bike..." Mal's protest is weak.

"She already has a name." River touches the chrome letters on the tank. "'Grace'."

0000

Pancho and Rik watch the firefly lift away, a speck on the horizon. Rik sighs regretfully.

"That First Mate was a fine lot of woman."

"You do like 'em dangerous."

"Oh, yeah." A grin. "Twenty credits says the Captain and the pilot."

"Well, we ain't ever gonna know..."

Dodge strolls up with a couple of coffees, and Rik arches an eyebrow.

"Thought you was working with the G?"

"Well..." Dodge squirms a little. "Honey came in, and it was getting a little crowded, you know?"

Pancho grins.

"They really think nobody's figured it out yet?"

0000

"Sure was a shame about all that money, though."

Jayne pulls a wedge of notes out of the back of his waistband.

"You think I'd leave without searching 'em? What kind of a fool you take me for, Mal?"

"Well, then..." Mal looks from the cash to his grinning merc. "Guess dinner's on you, then."

0000

New Vegas at play. A shrine to excess, lit by neon candles. A church without God, where faith is in the rattle of dice and the turn of a card, and the Devil is in the detail. The crew watch the street in bemused silence for a moment or two.

"Did I just see a man dressed as a six foot rabbit?" Simon asks carefully.

"This is one crazy-ass town."

"I like it." River grins. "Makes me look normal."

"Mebbe we shoulda waited, got hitched here." Jayne grins at Ilargia's look of horror. "Aw, c'mon, _bao bei_, you don't think I could carry off one of them shiny suits?"

The mental image of Jayne in a rhinestone-studded jumpsuit stops everyone dead.

0000

Mr Conrad had not wanted to let them in. But in this town, money talks. Loudly.

It's about the only talking there is. Thick steak, meat from actual animals, still pink in the centre, with a caramelized crust of pepper. Vegetables that didn't come out of a can, with real butter on them.

Then the dessert trolley goes past. River and Kaylee eye it with identical expressions, somewhat akin to wolves watching something young and tender wobble away from the herd...

It's very late. Just them and a few weary staff left.

Jayne and Ilargia are on the edge of the dance-floor. She'd taken his hand and drawn him up, and he, well, he'll look like all kinds of stupid for this woman in his arms. They don't need the music or nothin', just swaying together, gentle-like. A slow old-fashioned tune makes Ilargia start, look around Jayne's shoulder. She laughs softly. Simon, who has been coveting the baby grand since he first clapped eyes on it, has finally stepped up and had a quiet word.

He's now installed at the piano. River, curled cat-like on the lid, stretches and smiles.

"Dance with me, Captain?"

"River, I don't think the Captain..."

"If she can stand it, I can stand it." Mal grins. "Play it, Tam."

I apologise unreservedly to the ghosts of the silver screen, the godfather of gonzo and the geekmeisters of grindhouse. Though I guess Tarantino would probably be tickled pink (or brown, or something...) Anyway, until next time...th-th-that's all, folks.


End file.
